


To Steal from a Thief

by Treon



Series: Free as a Bird 'verse [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Case Fic, Gen, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara is tasked with recovering a stolen necklace</p>
<p>AU in which Neal never escaped from prison and never made a deal with the FBI. Part of my "Free As a Bird" 'verse, but can be read as a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Steal from a Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline-wise, this comes shortly after "Too Good To Be True" and includes spoilers for that fic.
> 
> Written for the wc_women_fest mini-fest.

Sara entered her office at Sterling Bosch with mixed feelings. She'd just closed a case of a stolen car, but though it was a successful case, another notch on her belt, it wasn't a successful recovery.  
  
After close to a month of intensive work she found evidence that a previously filed claim by the same policyholder had been fraudulent. Which meant that, most likely, there was no stolen car in this case either. She just now handed over the entire case file to an insurance investigator. She should have been happy, and yet - no recovery, no commission. It was a month gone to waste.  
  
She had barely sat down when her boss, Bryan McKenzie, stopped by the door. "I've got a juicy case for you."  
  
Bryan had been working the recovery field for several years when Sara joined the company, and he'd served as her mentor when she first started. One thing led to another, the two dated for a while and had even thought of getting married. Though for now, that was all in the past as far as Sara was concerned. He had recently been appointed to head the recovery unit, which made any continued romance problematic.  
  
Bryan entered her office and sat himself down on the edge of her desk as he handed her a file. "A stolen Cartier jade necklace".  
  
The file included the original insurance policy, together with photos of the necklace. The necklace itself was made of small, round jadeite beads with a clasp of ruby, diamonds and gold. It had been given to Woolworth heiress Barbara Hutton by her father on occasion of her marriage to the Russian aristocrat Alexis Mdivani.  
  
"Kind of gaudy," Sara remarked.  
  
"It cost us $12.8 million," Bryan noted dryly.  
  
"Still gaudy," she said.  
  
"You prefer diamonds?"  
  
Sara simply smiled and returned her attention to the file. Truth was, jade never really appealed to her. But Bryan was right - this was indeed a juicy case. A successful recovery would net her a quarter of a million.  
  
She flipped the page to the NYPD report of the theft. It was stolen right off the owner at a benefit gala just three days earlier. It didn't seem like that long, though three days in her business could mean the difference between recovering the item and having it sold off to a private collector where it would never see the light of day again.  
  
There was a scribbled note at the bottom, and Sara frowned as she read it. The case had been taken over by the Feds. "Why is the FBI involved?"  
  
"Beats me." Bryan shrugged.  
  
She looked up at her boss. "Do we suspect the policyholder?"  
  
Bryan got up. "It's doubtful. But as always-"  
  
"-Assume nothing," she finished the sentence. Right.  
  
Byron smiled as he headed for the door. "Good luck."  
  
*****  
  
And so, assuming nothing, Sara first checked who had filed the claim.  
  
Allison Moore was a young woman, just twenty-three, but her net insured worth at Sterling Bosch was over a hundred million dollars. A quick search online netted Sara a few articles from both social and business news sources. Moore's family had made its fortune through a chain of clothing stores in central Pennsylvania. According to one interview, what started off as a small shop with hand-made suits over a century ago had transformed into a local chain, and then a national mail-order business selling stylish affordable day-to-day wear. Allison, it said, was less interested in the business aspects, but was continuing the family tradition by studying fashion design. She had come to New York earlier that year and enrolled at the Parsons program.  
  
The heiress to the Moore fortune lived in an exclusive condo in Midtown. A doorman at the entrance checked Sara's card before allowing her past the building's front door, where she was met by a security guard who held Sara up until he contacted Moore and ensured she was expecting the guest. Sara could see why a thief would choose to strike when Moore was outside her protected domain.  
  
Moore herself didn't fit Sara's expectations. She had expected to meet an obnoxious trust-fund bitch, but Allison turned out to be rather pleasant and invited Sara in with a quiet smile.  
  
She did complain about the constant interrogations - Sara was at least the fifth person to interrogate her about the theft - but otherwise she didn't seem too overwrought about just losing a 13 million dollar necklace. Of course, somebody whose net worth was estimated to be in the hundreds of millions might not care about such trifles, and besides, Sara thought to herself, Sterling Bosch was there to recoup the loss.  
  
"Truth it, I didn't like it much," Allison flatly stated when asked about the necklace.  
  
"So you're not too heartbroken that it's gone," Sara queried.  
  
That earned her a sharp look from Moore. "I didn't have it stolen if that's what you're implying. Somebody snatched it off me." Her hand automatically rose to her neck. "I barely even felt it. One minute it was there, and the next it wasn't. My parents are really worried about me, all alone in the big city. They want me to come home, or at least get a bodyguard"  
  
"Are you going to?"  
  
"I don't intend to let a thief scare me away."  
  
Sara smiled at that. "How did the thief know you were going to wear it?"  
  
Allison shrugged. "I don't know. I've worn it recently a few times at a few events, but I really have no idea."  
  
Sara continued probing. "So, if you didn't really like it, why did you buy it?"  
  
"It was an investment. I lost millions when the stock market crashed, and decided to transfer my assets to more tangible investments. But I was about to sell it off. I already spoke to Sotheby’s, and they said that with its history I could probably make double its estimated worth in auction."  
  
Money begets money, Sara reflected to herself. A thought that didn't need to be spoken aloud.  
  
"Look," Allison continued, as if she sensed Sara's thoughts, "I realize I might seem like a spoiled brat who lost her trinket. I know I've got it good, and that I've got more money than I know what to do with. But in this case, the proceeds weren't going to me anyway. They were going to Save the Children. You can check with them, I'd already met with them to discuss endowment ideas. In fact, that's why I was there at the charity gala to begin with."  
  
Sara noted to herself to check with both Sotheby's and Save the Children, but as Bryan had said, it was doubtful Moore had anything to do with the theft.  
  
*****  
  
Sara's next stop was the FBI's White Collar division. She had met Agent Burke a few years ago while working a recovery case. He'd been quite helpful and they've worked together on several occasions since then.  
  
Peter was sitting in his office when she got off the elevator at the 21st floor of the FBI building. He saw her and stood up to wave her in.  
  
"What brings you in today, Sara?" he asked after she'd settled down in the visitor's chair. She hadn't given him much detail on the phone, she'd just told him she was working a new case and could use his help.  
  
"The Hutton-Mdivani necklace. I understand you took over the investigation," she half-asked, half-stated.  
  
"Ah... yeah." Peter leaned back in his chair. "We suspect Neal Caffrey's behind it."  
  
"Caffrey?" Sara asked in surprise. "Isn't he in jail?"  
  
"He was released six, seven months ago."  
  
"Really?" Caffrey had been sentenced to four years. She remembered that trial so clearly, as if it was yesterday. It was hard to imagine so much time has passed.  
  
Peter noted her confusion and laughed. "Time flies when you're having fun."  
  
Sara favored him with a tight smile and returned to the business at hand. "So, what? He's back to stealing?"  
  
"So we suspect. Though we haven't been able to pin anything on him yet."  
  
"You barely pinned anything on him the first time," Sara grumbled. The jury had acquitted Caffrey of all theft and heists with which he was charged. Sara, tasked with recovering a stolen Raphael masterpiece, 'Saint George and the Dragon', was left with nothing.  
  
Peter chuckled. "At least he's good for ensuring we stay busy. I've got at least two agents who owe him their job."  
  
Sara wasn't mollified. "Maybe for you. I get paid based on recovery rates. Why do you suspect Caffrey?"  
  
"It's his MO." The thief had cut power to the hall where the gala was being held. In the darkness and confusion, he'd slipped the necklace off his victim without anybody noticing. "Caffrey pulls off heists that grab headlines."  
  
"It impressed you."  
  
"Yeah," Peter admitted. "And we know he cased the place ahead of time. He was in the venue just a day earlier. The problem is, he has a rock-solid alibi for the time of the theft."  
  
"But you don't believe it?" Sara probed.  
  
Peter shrugged. "No. Rock-solid by Caffrey doesn't mean much. But proving it is a different matter. Look, Sara, I'll give you what I have-"  
  
"Great."  
  
"-In exchange for your help. Anything you find-"  
  
Sara interrupted, "I want to see Caffrey paying for his crimes as much as you do, Peter."  
  
*****  
  
Back in her office, Sara pulled the file she had made when she was chasing Caffrey for the Raphael and sat down to review it. It was a thick file, but it didn't give her much information about Caffrey's current activities. The FBI's updated file on Caffrey she just got from Peter didn't help much either. The FBI, NYPD, Interpol and Europol all suspected Caffrey of involvement in over a dozen cases, but none of the investigators involved could find enough conclusive evidence.  
  
And this time around he wasn't on the run, he wasn't even hiding. They all knew where to find him. According to Peter's file, Caffrey had purchased an apartment in the Upper Wast Side, right on Central Park.  
  
The next morning, Sara sat down at a bench across from the building, where she had a good view of all comings and goings. From a discrete inquiry at the nearby newspaper stand, which included an exchange of a couple of high-denomination bills, she learned that Caffrey had a pretty set schedule. He'd leave every morning around eight for an hour or two.  
  
Indeed, shortly after eight, she spotted him exiting the building. She had met the man only a couple of times, both during his trial, but she had seen enough surveillance photos of him to easily ID him on sight. Back then, based on the surveillance photos and witness reports, the conman had favored tailored suits. Now, it seems, he went more for polo shirts and Bermuda pants.  
  
During the trial the prosecution had called her in as a witness, and she had also shown up for the reading of the verdict. When the jury foreman declared him 'not guilty' of stealing the Raphael, Caffrey had turned around. Spotting her in the audience, he had winked at her. It was only Peter's restraining arm that had prevented her from killing him right there and then.  
  
She buried herself in the newspaper (her $200 newspaper) so he wouldn't spot her, though he didn't seem to spare her a glance. Once he disappeared down the street, Sara hurriedly dropped the paper. She figured she had half an hour to search his place.  
  
Getting into the building proved rather easy. Sara waited until a young man stopped to open the door, then ran up to him, slightly breathless. "Hold the door!" She gave him a thankful smile when he responded as most people did - he froze with the door open. "I'm late for a meeting," she added in explanation.  
  
He looked her up and down. She was wearing a pantsuit, high heels, carrying an attache case - looking every bit the businesswoman. Not the type of person he'd associate with crime. He let her in.  
  
Caffrey's apartment was on the top floor. The young man exited the elevator at a lower floor, saving Sara the trouble of pretending she actually had an appointment. She went straight for picking the lock.  
  
She took off her shoes when she entered (she wasn't about to start running around the place in heels), and snapped on latex gloves. It was a huge apartment which offered a breathtaking view of central park and the New York cityscape, though Sara didn't have time to stop and appreciate the view.  
  
Peter's file said that Caffrey had bought the place shortly after he'd been released. It didn't take a genius to figure out that it must have cost him a fortune and start wondering where the money had come from. It was probably bankrolled by selling off part of the loot he'd kept hidden all these years. The Raphael had never surfaced, so he'd either managed to sell it under the radar, or he was still keeping it somewhere. She hoped she'd have better luck with the Cartier necklace.  
  
If Caffrey had hidden the necklace here, it could be anywhere. There was a very expansive living-room/kitchen/dining area which opened up into quite a large patio. Assuming that Caffrey wouldn't leave anything incriminating in plain sight, Sara started checking the other rooms. Bathroom, bedroom, study. She merely stepped into each room and gave it a quick look-see.  
  
Down the hall she found a locked door and, after picking the lock, discovered an impressive art studio. A few easels in the corner contained half-started works, though she couldn't tell whether they were originals or forgeries. On one wall she spotted a replica of Vermeer's Milkmaid. Rows of shelves held various art supplies - from tubes of paint and canvases to blocks of stone and marble - all organized and labeled. Another wall was filled with cabinets which appeared to contain finished works.  
  
It would be so simple to hide the Raphael here, lying among so many other art works. Taking a look at the time (she had twenty minutes to go), she started checking the cabinets. She was hoping she'd find a safe or some other hiding place that would scream "I keep my loot in here", but no such luck.  
  
She had looked through almost everything in the room, but still didn't find what she was looking for, neither necklace nor Renaissance masterpiece. Turning around, she considered where else she could look... and froze in surprise.  
  
Neal Caffrey was standing in front of her.  
  
*****  
  
Caffrey was leaning casually against the door post, arms folded over his chest. She wondered how long he'd been standing there, watching her. Was it just her bad luck that he happened to come back early, or did the newspaper seller take her money and then screw her over? Whichever way, she now had to deal with the reality of being caught red-handed.  
  
"Found anything interesting?" Caffrey asked, noting that he'd been spotted.  
  
Sara's mind whirled through the options. He was blocking her exit. There were large glass doors on the other side of the room, leading out to the patio, but she wasn't sure how she would get off the roof, if need be.  
  
Seeing that he wasn't going to get an answer, he continued, "If you're looking for that Raphael... you won't find it here, Ms. Ellis. Or should I call you Sara?"  
  
"Sara's just fine, and I'm not here for the Raphael," she said. Caffrey was known as a Gentleman Thief, and according to his file had also expressed disdain at using guns. But even if that were true back then, prison could change a man. Nobody knew she was here, and if she disappeared, nobody would know where to even start looking. Slowly she reached for her bag. Her baton was inside, and if she had to, she intended to beat her way out of here.  
  
Neal didn't seem to notice. "Oh? So what are you here for? Or did you just decide to drop by for old times' sake."  
  
"I'm here for a jade necklace."  
  
"The Hutton-Mdivani?" Sara wasn't surprised that he knew which necklace she referred to. "It was in the news," he added in explanation. "Who says I've got it?"  
  
"It's your style. Daring, audacious, flawlessly executed." Caffrey practically beamed as she counted it out for him. "And you were there just a day earlier."  
  
That last sentence caused him to straighten up. "You talked to Agent Burke about me?" He took her silence as confirmation. "Then I'm sure he also told you that I couldn't have done it. You see, I wasn't even in town the night of the heist."  
  
"He seems to think you managed anyway."  
  
"Has it occurred to you that I didn't steal that necklace?"  
  
"No."  
  
"No?" He sounded truly surprised.  
  
"No. And you know why? Because you're a thief." Maybe now wasn't the best time to unload on the guy, but she couldn't stand his smug attitude. "You were a thief when you stole that Raphael and you're a thief now."  
  
He grinned at her. "Need I remind you that a jury decided I was innocent?"  
  
As if that made him innocent of anything. "Not the justice system's crowning moment. You think that you managed to get off scot-free for all your crimes, and that-"  
  
For the first time, Caffrey lost his cool. "I spent the past four years in a super-max!"  
  
"Apparently it wasn't enough!"  
  
Neal's gaze wandered round the room before settling back on Sara. He chuckled with a quick shake of his head. "That's rich. Remind me, Sara, who let you in here?"  
  
"I'm just here to get back what you stole from me."  
  
"Really? How would Sterling Bosch respond if you get arrested for B&E?"  
  
She would probably get fired, and her bosses would pretend they had no idea what she was doing. "You're going to bring the police in here?"  
  
Neal laughed again. "If I do, chances are that they'll use the opportunity to tear my place apart, searching for 'evidence'. And I'm really not looking forward to spending the next few days giving my testimony to people who'd rather see me behind bars than the real thief."  
  
Sara had the feeling Caffrey wouldn't turn to the law. "Look, Caffrey, I don't care about you or the FBI. I just want that necklace back. You can hand it over now, and I'll forget where I found it, or you can continue pretending you have no idea where it is. I'm going to recover that necklace, and when I do, you'll most likely find yourself in jail for it."  
  
"Is that a threat?"  
  
"It's a statement of fact."  
  
"You do realize that whoever stole it did you a favor."  
  
"A favor? Really?" She couldn't believe the guy.  
  
"Sure. You're going to make a killing recovering that necklace. How much are you making off it, five percent?"  
  
"Two," Sara corrected. Caffrey was, of course, right. This theft was a bonanza for her.  
  
"Still. So let's see, you're here, breaking the law as we speak, and you're profiting quite nicely off crime. What makes _you_ the paragon of virtue to start lecturing me about being a thief?"  
  
" _I_ am not a criminal."  
  
"Right. You stand for truth and justice. As if it really matters whether that necklace adorns one multi-million dollar neck or another. The owner was compensated anyway, it's not as if anybody got hurt."  
  
"Nobody compensated us," Sara groused. "And just that you know, that necklace was going to be sold off and the proceeds donated to a children's charity."  
  
"Charity?"  
  
She could see she caught him off-guard, and she pressed her advantage. "That's right, Caffrey. You stole from disadvantaged children. How does that feel?"  
  
He left the question unanswered. "Look, I see you're not going to get off my case until you find that necklace. How about I help you?"  
  
"Help me with what?" she asked cautiously.  
  
"Help you find the necklace."  
  
"Seriously?" Sara hesitated, unsure what his endgame was.  
  
He apparently sensed her concerns, because he smiled at her. "I thought you only cared about getting that necklace back."  
  
"I do."  
  
"So, I'll check around and let you know."  
  
"Right." Sara didn't expect to hear back from him.  
  
*****  
  
But, surprisingly, early the next morning, the master art-thief buzzed her intercom.  
  
"Yeah?" She assumed it was the paper delivery guy coming to settle the monthly bill. It wasn't.  
  
"It's Neal," said the crackly voice at the other end of the line. Then, after a slight pause, unsure if it was needed, "Caffrey. I think I found the person you're looking for."  
  
"Hold on. I'll come out soon." She was not going to let him into her apartment.  
  
She hurriedly finished getting ready, and fifteen minutes later, she met him outside. He grinned when he saw her.  
  
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
He gestured for her to walk with him. "There's a certain fence I know that deals with high-end items. Rumor has it that she recently closed a big deal. A pre-ordered job."  
  
"Rumor has it, huh?" Sara wondered why Caffrey still bothered with the pretense that he hadn't stolen the necklace himself.  
  
"Yeah. Anyway, I set up a meet with her, and-"  
  
"To do what?" Sara interrupted.  
  
Neal led the way into a small park at the end of the block. It was quite deserted at this time of day. "Just follow my lead, okay?"  
  
"Follow-"  
  
But Neal interrupted her. "Oh, there she is. Alex!" He waved a hand.  
  
A young woman with long, brown hair was headed in their direction. The three met under one of the large oak trees dotting the park? Neal grinned at Alex, but she didn't seem too happy about this meeting. She flicked a glance at Sara, then turned back to Neal. "What do you want, Neal? You said this was urgent."  
  
"This," he put a hand on Sara's back, "is the great-granddaughter of Alexis Mdivani."  
  
The fence glanced at Sara, obviously not impressed. "Seriously?"  
  
Sara just shrugged, unsure where Caffrey was going with this.  
  
"Illegitimate great-granddaughter," Neal added, ignoring the look Sara threw in his direction.  
  
"So?"  
  
"You sold a certain item this week which she," he nodded towards Sara, "would really like."  
  
"I don't do charity work, Neal."  
  
"Of course. She'll pay. Whatever the buyer asks for." Sara was about to say something, but Neal's hand tightened on her shoulder. "And of course she'll pay you the regular commission rate."  
  
The other woman didn't seem convinced. "You said this was urgent, Neal."  
  
"It is," Neal answered, not missing a beat. "You see, she's here in New York only until tomorrow."  
  
"You want me to organize a sale from today to tomorrow?"  
  
Neal grinned. "Today, if possible." He continued pushing. "I'll owe you one, Alex."  
  
Alex shook her head. "I can't believe I'm doing this." She fished in her bag for her cell-phone, then walked away.  
  
"So that's the deal?" Sara turned on Neal the minute the other woman was out of earshot. She was surprised at her own sense of betrayal. Caffrey had been conning her after all. "You steal the necklace and get paid twice for it? Not going to work, Caffrey." She made to go, but Neal stopped her.  
  
"Wait-"  
  
"Sterling Bosch does not pay ransom for stolen items."  
  
"Okay, shhhh..... you won't pay anything." Neal kept an easy smile plastered on his face. Alex was out of earshot, but she still had them in sight.  
  
Sara followed his glance, then forced herself to relax. "Really? Then what are we doing here?"  
  
"Look, we just need to know who she sold it to, right? Once she comes back, you distract her, I'll get her phone and see who she called."  
  
It was a con alright, but _she_ wasn't the mark. Caffrey intended to con his fence. Sara glanced at Neal, and he met her gaze.  
  
"Okay." She finally relented.  
  
Alex came back not five minutes later. "No deal, Neal."  
  
Neal glanced at Sara, expecting her to do her part, but instead she smiled at him. "Thanks, Neal. I think I'll manage from here."  
  
"But-"  
  
"I do appreciate your help," she said, and she meant it. She wouldn't have gotten all this intel without him. But she didn't need his help any longer.  
  
She turned around and walked off. Behind her, she could hear Neal and Alex start to argue, but she didn't hang around to see the end of it.  
  
*****  
  
Sara didn't want Neal's help, but she still needed some help. And so she went back to Peter.  
  
She was standing with the FBI agent in the conference room when a probie entered with a stack of files. "This is all we've got on known fences in the region," he said as he put the stack down in front of her.  
  
Peter thanked him, then started looking through the files. "This shouldn't be too hard, there aren't that many women in the field."  
  
"No, I suppose there wouldn't be." Sara was one of the few in her field as well.  
  
Peter meanwhile started reviewing the names on the bindings. "What did you say her name was?"  
  
"Alex."  
  
"Right." He pulled out a file, and flipped it open. "Alexandra Hunter?"  
  
Sara leaned forward to take a look at the attached mug shot, and found herself staring at the woman she'd just met. "Yep, that's her."  
  
Peter glanced at the attached notes. "She's a high-end fence, deals mostly with Eastern-European antiquities. Maybe she's branching out..." He flipped another page. "Says here she was arrested once in France, but wasn't charged. Was a suspect in several cases here in New York, but we never had enough evidence against her." He sighed, thinking. "You think she fenced the necklace?"  
  
"I'm sure of it."  
  
"And Caffrey worked with her on it?"  
  
"They were pretty chummy about it."  
  
Peter wasn't happy. "If you'd have given me advance notice, we could have fitted you with a wire and brought them both down."  
  
Sara glanced at Peter. The FBI couldn't catch Caffrey and now suddenly it was her fault. "I didn't have much advance notice myself. Besides, they didn't say anything too incriminating."  
  
"No. I suppose they wouldn't. But if Hunter's involved," Peter mused, "we could pick her up, try to get her to turn on Caffrey."  
  
"No." Sara surprised Peter. "You do that, she'll think I was an FBI plant and warn her client. I'd like to find out who they are first."  
  
He glanced at Sara with a calculating look. "What were you doing with Caffrey, anyway?"  
  
Sara debated how much to reveal to the FBI agent. "He offered to help me find the necklace."  
  
"He did, did he?" Peter closed the file, and pulled out a chair, gesturing for Sara to do the same. "Let me tell you about Neal Caffrey and his offers to help. A month ago, Caffrey came to me and offered to help stop a planned heist at the Met. They had a special Renaissance exhibit..." Peter trailed of. "Anyway, Caffrey, being the upstanding model citizen that he is, said he wanted to help."  
  
"And he didn't?"  
  
"As far as I can tell, he was the one planning the heist, and he almost got away with a Vermeer masterpiece."  
  
"Vermeer?" Sara perked up.  
  
"Yeah. The Milkmaid."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
This caught Peter's attention. "Yeah. Why?"  
  
"I-" Once again, Sara wasn't sure how much to confide. She had a sneaky suspicion that the Vermeer in Caffrey's apartment wasn't a replica. "He didn't steal it in the end?"  
  
"Nope." Peter glanced at Sara. "He tried to grab it, we stopped him. I had the painting authenticated, just to make sure."  
  
"Huh."  
  
Peter didn't query further. "Watch your back, Sara, because if he implicates you in a job of his, there's a limit to how much I can protect you."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about that. First of all, I'm a big girl and can take care of myself."  
  
"And second?"  
  
"I've already got what I needed from him. Right now, I need to know who Hunter called today."  
  
Peter shook his head. "People like her use burners most of the time."  
  
"Yes, but even burners go through cell-towers, just like every other phone."  
  
"You want to start sifting through every call made in New York?" Peter opened his eyes wide.  
  
"I have the coordinates and time, that should narrow it down to the cell tower."  
  
"It's not going to be easy," Peter warned.  
  
"Nobody said catching Neal Caffrey would be easy," Sara responded.  
  
Peter smiled at that, but Sara hoped she hadn't made a mistake refusing Caffrey's help. Getting the number through him would have been much easier.  
  
*****  
  
Peter had come through with a list of phone-calls that matched the location and times of Hunter's call, but Sara still had to invest a few hours of work narrowing down the list. First cutting it down to the possibles, then researching each one until she finally settled on her prime suspects.  
  
They were a couple named Ted and Felicia Dubra. The two, who lived out in Nissequogue, on the more affluent part of Long Island, ran a small PR firm specializing in the rich and famous. And as it happened, Allison Moore was one of their clients. When she checked with Moore, the girl claimed it had been her idea to wear the necklace for the gala evening, but Sara suspected the Dubras' planted the idea there first.  
  
She couldn't understand why people like them felt the need to steal.  
  
The houses in this area were set apart from the road, surrounded by large swathes of forest. She parked off the road, then took out a map she'd printed off Google, to review her approach. Based on the gossip columns, the Dubras were invited to a high-class shindig in town that evening. She figured she would wait for them to leave and then search their house. It was a quiet place and Sara didn't expect any trouble.  
  
A knock on the passenger window made her jump. She really hadn't expected anybody out here. She fumbled with the map, just barley managing not to drop it. When she turned to see who it was, she discovered Caffrey's smiling face. He motioned her to put down the window.  
  
She pressed the button to allow the window to slide down, just enough so she could talk to him. "What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed at him.  
  
"I could ask the same question." He tried the door and found it locked. "Are you going to let me in?"  
  
"I have no idea what you think you're doing, but whatever it is, it's not going to work."  
  
He leaned towards the crack in the window. "Well, let me tell you what _you're_ doing. You're going to break in and get the necklace." He waited for her response, but when he saw none was forthcoming, he continued. "I thought I could help you out."  
  
"Really?" She let out a light laugh. "You? Help me out?"  
  
He grinned at her.  
  
"I don't need your help," she continued. She pushed the button and the window went back up, just missing snagging Caffrey's fingers.  
  
Caffrey shrugged. She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to do. Argue a bit more? Head back home? But he simply walked away and towards the Dubras' place. He was wearing black, gloves on his hands, a knapsack on his back.  
  
Sara's smile changed into a frown. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. He intended to go for the necklace himself.  
  
She hurried to grab her bag and get out of the car.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
He stopped, turned around and waited until she caught up with him.  
  
"On second thought... You say you want to help me out?"  
  
"Yes." He looked as sincere as he sounded, but Sara was no novice - she didn't believe a word the man said.  
  
"Did you follow me here?"  
  
Neal glanced at her in surprise. "No."  
  
"Then how..." Her brain mentally added one plus one and she could have kicked herself for not seeing this coming. "You stole the phone." It wasn't even a question.  
  
"I prefer 'borrowed,'" Neal corrected.  
  
"I bet you do."  
  
"I did give it back."  
  
"That's not the point."  
  
" _You're_ about to steal a 13 million dollar necklace," Neal pointed out.  
  
"Retrieve it." Now it was Sara's turn to correct him. "And it's worth 12.8 million."  
  
Neal gave her a look.  
  
"Oh, no," Sara shook her head, "don't try pretending we're both the same."  
  
Neal just shrugged.  
  
They made their way to the property line, where through the trees they had a pretty good view of the house. It was a two-story sprawling house surrounded by expansive open grounds which they'd have to cross.  
  
Sara put on her gloves, then removed a pair of binoculars from her own bag and lifted it to her eyes. "How did you know I was going to be here tonight?" she asked.  
  
"I didn't," Caffrey said simply.  
  
Sara put down the binoculars. "So you didn't come here to help me out."  
  
"I thought I'd retrieve the necklace _for_ you."  
  
"I'm sure you did."  
  
"The Dubras' will be out of the house tonight, and-"  
  
Sara didn't have the patience to be lectured on how to do her job. "I'm aware of that."  
  
"Yeah. Well, in any case. They can't take the necklace with them, so they'll probably spend the moments before leaving trying it on, pretending they could show off their new acquisition at this party." Neal pointed to the lighted window on the far left corner of the second floor, and Sara focused her binoculars on it. The shades were drawn, but it was clear that somebody was moving in there. "My guess, that's where you'll find the necklace."  
  
They spent the next half hour hiding among the trees, waiting for the Dubras to leave. When the lights finally went out and the Dubras' car zoomed by them on the road, Neal turned to Sara. "You don't have to risk going in there."  
  
Sara snickered. "You must be nuts if you think I'm letting you in there on your own."  
  
Neal grinned at her. "Then let's go."  
  
*****  
  
Getting into the house proved rather easy. The Dubras had a rather basic security system, set up to call the police in case an intruder entered. Neal easily disabled it by cutting off the electricity. As Sara often found, thieves never thought they'd have to worry about getting hit themselves  
  
They entered through the front door and climbed up to the second floor. Both had brought head-mounted flashlights, which threw out light-beams around them as they turned to examine the place.  
  
The window in question turned out to be in the master bedroom. Sara and Neal spread out, looking for a safe. Neal checked the paintings hung up around the room, but Sara was the one who found it, hidden inside a large walk-in closet.  
  
Neal kneeled by the safe and removed a stethoscope from his bag.  
  
Sara glanced at him. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm going to crack the safe."  
  
"I didn't ask for your help." She joined him, forcing him aside. She had brought her own equipment with her. "I can crack this myself."  
  
Caffrey didn't argue, but remained in place and listened in as she slowly started turning the combination lock.  
  
"You missed one."  
  
She turned to glare at him, shining her flashlight in his eyes. "I know how to crack a safe."  
  
Neal blinked. "I'm sure you do. I'm just saying-"  
  
"Then don't."  
  
Sara turned back to the task at hand, trying to focus and not to think of the man standing next to her or why she felt the need to impress him with her safe-cracking abilities.  
  
Caffrey might have done it faster, he did after all have that much more experience, but she did manage to crack the safe. Neal gave her a thumbs up. As if she needed it.  
  
"Wow," Neal breathed out once she opened the heavy door. The safe was filled with jewelry. He reached for a golden brooch, but Sara hit his arm away.  
  
"We're not here for that," she whispered.  
  
"I was just looking."  
  
'Their' necklace was displayed on a black velvet mannequin, the rubies and gold sparkling in Sara's flashlight. She reached for the necklace and carefully removed it from the safe. Only when it was safely in her hands, did Sara finally relax. Having a man like Caffrey by her side was helpful at times, but it was also very risky. For all she knew, he had joined her to steal the necklace himself.  
  
She produced a piece of felt from her bag and started wrapping it up. "I don't get what's the point of stealing something you're never going to wear."  
  
Neal removed his gloves. "Here. Let me." He reached for the necklace before Sara could stop him.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Hold on." He held up the necklace and reached over to close it around Sara's neck. Then stepped back. "Exquisite," he said simply. "Do you feel that?"  
  
"Feel what?"  
  
"You're wearing a necklace worn by Barbara Hutton." She reached up to feel the beads on her neck. They were worth millions. "See?" Neal continued, "You don't need an audience to feel like royalty."  
  
In the darkness she could almost forget she was talking to a con-artist and a thief. The man who most probably had stolen this necklace in the first place. "You realize I'm not going to give up on that Raphael."  
  
He grinned at her. "I wouldn't expect you to."  
  
Later, back in her office, after she handed Bryan the necklace, she reflected back on this case. She hadn't found the evidence she needed to hang Caffrey for the heist. In fact, Caffrey had made sure that she couldn't link his fingerprints to the original theft. But she recovered the necklace. The sale would go through, and the money would go to the kids who really needed it. She was about to make a fortune, and Peter had enough intel now to go after the Dubras. All in all, a successful case.

 


End file.
